


Coming Home

by sitka



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6079368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitka/pseuds/sitka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years is a long time: long enough to grow up, to grow apart, to find yourself half a world away. But is it long enough to move on?</p><p>After more than a decade apart, two childhood best friends discover that picking up where you left off is easier said than done.</p><p>With only one weekend together and years of heartache unresolved, they struggle to decide if they are brave enough to start again… or smart enough to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Universe, varying perspective and narrative styles.
> 
> Comments always appreciated. Let me know if you want to hear more!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke thought he had his life together, but memories of a childhood flame rise out of the ashes. Can he conquer old feelings before they conquer him?

When Luke awakens, he braces his eyes against the harsh sunlight streaming through the white shuttered window. It is too early and he is too hungover.

 

He lets out a groan as he rolls over in bed, his tall frame splayed out on top of the cotton sheets. He finds someone laying next to him, her blonde hair long and swept across her face, shielding her from view. She is still asleep and he mutters a silent prayer of appreciation.

 

In a cliche of all cliches, he cannot remember her name.

 

He cannot remember much of anything from last night.

 

As he lays as still as possible, he plots his exit. If he can make it out of bed and into the front room without disturbing her, he knows there is a change of clothes hanging over the sofa. He can leave his keys for her to lock up.

 

_Had to go to work early_ , he scribbles down once he has has made it to the kitchen. _Just leave the keys under the front mat_.

 

The note is cold, even by his standards, but he is too tired to care and doubts he would care any more even if he were more alert. He throws on a white t-shirt and some jeans, grabs his wallet and phone, and heads out the door.

 

He does not have to be at work for another two hours. 

 

He decides to grab a coffee from the local shop and go for a walk. He does not care where. He just wants to get away.

 

As he walks, he is thankful for the cool breeze on his face and the warm coffee in his hand. The streets are empty. He feels less lonely here, all alone, than in bed with some strange body beside him.

 

He walks and walks with no destination in mind. Half an hour later, his body has guided him to the beach. The tide is going out and the water is rough and unforgiving. The cool and salty air fills his lungs and wakes him up more than the coffee has. 

 

There is a lone surfer a ways down the beach, otherwise he is completely alone.

 

He takes a sip from his coffee, watching the ships out on the ocean, beyond the harbour. He thinks about work. He thinks about his family. He thinks about his life and the choices he has made.

 

But, most of all, he thinks about a girl, half a world away, who he has not seen for twelve years. He is not sure exactly what makes him think of her, for it has been a while since she has crossed his mind. Maybe it is the soft caress of the ocean air on his cheek that makes him remember her and the last time he saw her so many years ago.

 

He can still vaguely recall the sensation of her lips, pressing gently on his cheek, and the sound of her sad voice, whispering a goodbye into his ear.

 

As the clouds roll in and the sky darkens with the threat of rain, he remembers the promise he made the day he left. He gazes out across the horizon and, daring to hope for the first time in as long as he can remember, wonders if he might still keep it.


	2. Friends and Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After more than a decade apart, a phone call from an old friend threatens to turn Jess Rigby's world upside down.

Jess Rigby's day at work had been draining, beyond its usual degree of soul-sucking torture. All she was able to manage as she entered her dark apartment was to close the front door, walk to her room like a zombie, and collapse on her bed. She could not even be bothered to take the shoes off her feet.

 

She breathed a deep sigh and was grateful that the weekend was finally before her. Her biggest plan for the weekend was to sleep. Just as she found herself nodding off, her cellphone vibrated on the bedside table.

 

She was surprised to find it was a call rather than a text and was caught off guard by the number. There was no name, but there was a long foreign area code and words beneath the number that read “Australia”.

 

A strange sensation came over her. She knew it was most likely a telemarketer, but there was indeed one person living in Australia that could be calling her. She knew the odds were staggeringly unlikely. 

 

But as the phone kept buzzing, something inside her clung to the wicked hope that it could be him.

 

“Hello?” she answered, attempting a calm, cool voice that instead sounded timid and awkward.

 

At first there was only static, then loud background noises. Sounds of multiple muddied conversations and something that sounded like an overhead announcement filled her ear.

 

“Hello?” a voice finally replied. It was too muffled to be sure, but she already found her head reeling with potential. There was some rustling and more echoed announcements. “Hello?” he repeated, his voice somewhat urgent. 

 

“Hello?” she repeated again. She could not get herself to hang up just yet. She had to be sure. “Who’s this?”

 

Then the line went quiet, the background noises disappeared, and she thought they had been disconnected.

 

“Jessica?” His voice returned. It was suddenly so clear and loud in her ear that she jumped slightly. It was deeper, most assuredly, and more mingled with an Australian accent than it was once had been, but it was unmistakable. _It was him_.

 

She desperately wanted to speak. She wanted to speak volumes to him. But her heart and voice were tied up in knots. Moments went by. 

 

“Hello?” he asked again. “Jessica?” 

 

The panic of him giving up and ending the call was enough to get her to finally speak.

 

“Luke,” she managed to get out. It was intended as a question, but she knew who it was, so it came out as more of a simple whisper.

 

There was some re-emergence of background noise, some rustling and beeping.

 

“Hey,” he replied. “I know this is out of the blue, but I’m at the airport. It’s kind of hard to hear you. I’m actually…” he trailed off and she thought she had lost him, but his voice returned. “I’m actually back in Canada…I’m at Pearson right now.”

 

She let the implication of the statement wash over her. She remained silent. She doubted he expected a response, after so many years of silence, before he explained further.

 

“I actually just got in. Do you-“ And then there was some static and loud voices in the background.

 

“Huh?” she interjected. “It’s really hard to hear you.” 

 

“Sorry,” he apologized, trying to speak louder but his voice was still slightly lost amongst the white noise. “I got your number from your mom,” he explained. “I hope you don’t mind, I -“ his voice was cut off again by another loud announcement in the background. “Sorry. I’m gonna be in Toronto for a couple days…Do you-“ Another interruption. “Do you think you’d have any time to hang out?”

 

The question lingered in the air. The whole situation was entirely bewildering. She would need days to process it all, weeks even, but she only had mere seconds to analyze it and respond.

 

“Sure,” she responded, quickly, almost automatically, without thought, but the reply was true enough. She _did_ want to see him, as much as it frightened her. “When were you thinking?” she asked, her mouth becoming dry. 

 

“Well,” he started, “I know it’s last minute but, I…” he trailed off. This time it wasn’t an interruption. He was building up to something. “I was wondering if you were free tonight. I don’t have any plans and-” Then there was a loud sound and a rustle. “Shit, sorry, I just dropped my phone.” She could hear him breathing. “I know it’s out of the blue but I’d love to see you.”

 

Her heart swelled in spite of her desire to rein it in. _I’d love to see you_. The words echoed mercilessly in her ears. 

 

“Sure,” she replied, calmly and evenly, surprising herself. “I’m free tonight.” She switched her cell to her other ear. “Where do you want to meet?”

 

“Do you think I could come by your place?” he asked, sounding a bit more composed. “I still have my luggage. I haven’t found a place to stay yet,” he added. “Not that I’m asking to stay at your place,” Luke backtracked quickly, “I’m gonna get a hotel, I just -“ He was becoming flustered again.

 

“Sure,” she interjected, giving him the kindness of not having to explain himself any further. “When do you think you’ll be here?” She forgot for a moment that he would have no idea where she lived. “Wait, I guess you’ll need my address. I-“

 

“Your mom said you were living in the city?” he interrupted. “If I catch a cab soon I think I’ll be there in about half an hour. Can you text me your address?”

 

“Sure,” Jess replied. She was painfully aware of how often she was saying “sure” in this conversation. “I…I guess I’ll see you soon then?”

 

“See you soon,” was all he said before hanging up, as if there was nothing more that needed to be said after twelve years of distance. 

 

She sat at the edge of her bed, mind and heart racing. Mere minutes ago she had been exhausted, at the edge of sleep, but now she was wide awake. Had she dreamt the whole thing? Was this really happening? 

 

In spite of all the confusion and apprehension, there was a sensation deep inside her, ebbing and flowing, made of hope and anticipation. 

 

It had been ages since he had even crossed her mind. It had been twelve years since they had said goodbye at the very airport at which he had just arrived. It had been seven years since she had heard his voice. It had been at least five or six years since their last email or text that she could remember.

 

She thought he had finally drifted out of her life for forever. And now here she was, feeling sixteen all over again.

*


	3. Almost, Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After traveling over nine-thousand miles, Luke begins to doubt his rash decision.

Luke Hemmings was grateful that the cab driver did not care for small talk. He was jet-lagged and only wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

 

He could not quite rectify how less than a week ago he had been back in Sydney, walking down by the beach, and now he was on the other side of the world, chasing down a dream he was not entirely sure existed any more.

 

Twelve years was an awfully long time.

 

His family had moved to Canada from Australia when he was five years old. Major life changes are a lot easier to manage when you are five, and he had adapted to his new life seamlessly. His earliest memory of Jess was from his first day of school. Certainly, the memory was foggy and frayed around the edges, but he remembered that purple coat she was wearing and the kind smile on her face.

 

They had become instant friends, in only the way five year olds can do. Both of their parents had been impressed when their friendship lasted into those awkward pre-teen years. Yes, they hung out a bit less in public, but late night phone calls and weekend adventures had always continued.

 

He thought back to that last summer they had spent together. They wasted the weeks away at her cottage. Her parents were there from time to time, but they spent the majority of their time completely alone. Looking back, it was a wonder at how much their parents trusted them.

 

It was the first time he realized he might care for her as more than a friend. He seemed to be discovering something new about her with every moment that passed by: the way her auburn hair glowed red in the sunset, the way her lips pouted when she was deep in thought, the way she looked so peaceful curled up in his bed as he sat on the floor playing her songs on his guitar.

 

They were on the verge of something - he could sense it.

 

But they never spoke about it. No confessions were ever made. They never even kissed.

 

Was it because they were too young? Or was it because she never really felt the same way about him?

 

As the cab drove down the empty highway, he thought back to the last time he saw her.

 

By the end of that summer, Luke had found out that his parents were getting divorced. His dad had found a job out in Alberta and his mother had decided to move him back to Australia so she could be closer to her family.

 

He was devastated. He did not want to leave his home, his friends, _her_.

 

But he was sixteen and had little choice in the matter.

 

Jess had come to the airport that day. Before he left for his gate, he hugged her tightly, resting his head on her shoulder, burying his face into her hair. He wanted to remember every sensation. He told her they would stay in touch, and he promised that as soon as he turned eighteen, he would be back and they would finally get to finish their summer at the cottage.

 

He had lofty plans for that golden summer. He dreamt of how he would finally tell her how he felt, kiss her, hold her, wake up beside her.

 

But that summer at the cottage never came.

 

The summer he turned eighteen, his mother lost her job and things got complicated. He found himself working three jobs just to keep them in their apartment. His dreams of going to college slipped through his fingers.

 

Before he knew it, five years had passed by and he had still not been back to Canada.

 

Financially, things got better. His mother had eventually found work again. He managed to get a degree in sound mixing, started working at a local recording studio, and got an apartment of his own. One day, he woke up and discovered he had carved out a new life for himself, and it suddenly seemed too late to go back, as much as he wished he could.

 

They had stayed in touch for a while, but it had been ages since any meaningful conversation had passed between them.

 

Twelves years apart.

 

It occurred to Luke that he had now been away longer than they had been together - a strange and sobering fact.

 

All of a sudden, the cab was slowing down. Looking up, he realized with slight panic that he had arrived. He paid the driver and grabbed his duffel bag. As the car pulled away and he stood outside in the summer night’s air, he looked up at the apartment building, casting his eyes to whereabouts the twenty-eighth floor might be.

 

The harsh reality of the situation swept over him, and he wondered if all dreams were meant to be followed.


	4. Even After All This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now almost strangers to each other, Jess tries to come to terms with a best friend who isn't quite the sixteen year old boy she remembers.

I knew I was a goner from the moment I opened the front door. I prayed that I could hide my weakness long enough so that he might never see it. I hated being weak, but I mostly hated being weak in front of him.

 

My eyes took a moment to adjust upon seeing Luke Hemmings for the first time in twelve years, almost as if I had just stepped out into the bright sunlight. He was Luke, of that I was certain. His hair was still the same golden blonde. His eyes were the same steely light blue. His smile was the same awkward, self-deprecating smile, like he had no idea how wonderful he was. 

 

But so much about him had changed. His frame, once average height and lanky, was now hitting well over six feet and his shoulders were much broader than I remembered. His hair was short and messy and swept off of his forehead. A thick coat of stubble verging on a beard traced his strong jawline. The universe had a twisted sense of humour, turning my sweet sixteen year-old Luke into this rugged man. It must love to see me suffer.

 

I was overwhelmingly aware of his gaze upon me. He was trying to be discreet but I could tell he was taking me in, witnessing the ways that I too was different than my sixteen year-old self. I had taken the time to re-do my make-up after he had called. I did not want to seem overeager, but I at least wanted to look presentable. For clothing, I had stuck with a simple blue tank top and jeans. I could not bear the idea of him thinking I wanted to please him. I could not stand myself for thinking that thought in the first place.

 

“Hey,” he said, the first to break the moment of silence, adjusting the bag hanging over his shoulder. His voice was at once a salve for a wound and a razor to my skin. I had missed him so terribly and he had hurt me so much. 

 

“You packed light,” I observed, glancing at his duffel bag and lack of real luggage, because I really did not know what else to say. And, perhaps, I felt a bit of the ease one feels with old friends - the ability to jump into casual banter without formal greetings and introductions that other people required. And yet he was practically a stranger to me now. I scolded myself for at least not saying hello. 

 

“I fly out Monday,” he explained, and looked as if he was about to launch into further details when I could not stand it any longer and flew at him, hugging him tightly. I caught him off guard and he stumbled back slightly, dropping his bag to the floor, but soon he had his balance and he was hugging me back with that bear like grip I remembered from our childhood. 

 

Luke always gave the best hugs.

 

But there was something different about this one. I was hyperaware of the sensation of his body against mine, the way his tall frame leaned forward to envelop me, the way his stubble tickled against my neck. I closed my eyes tightly, fearing that once I opened them he would disappear forever - like this had all been some bittersweet dream.

 

When I opened my eyes, he was still there, still holding me, still nuzzling against my neck in a way that made my stomach turn and my face flush. 

 

“I missed you,” he murmured into my hair, giving me another squeeze. 

 

I had never wanted to cry as much as I did in that moment. A cry of relief and confusion and heartbreak. 

 

But I held it in and my voice only sounded a bit wobbly as I replied, “I missed you too.” 

 

I am not sure if we held each other for minutes or hours, but we finally drew apart. I hoped dearly it did not show how much of an emotional wreck I was.

 

Luke picked his bag back off the ground. “So you gonna invite me in or what?” he asked with a coy smile on his face. His Australian accent, which had been barely noticeable in the years I had known him, was quite prominent now. It was enough to lighten my mood and allow me to catch my breath for the first time since I had opened the door. 

 

I opened the door behind me, which had managed to shut itself during our awkward reunion, and gestured inside. I had tried to clean the best I could with the notice he had given me, but I had not been entirely successful. At least most things were now in organized messy piles rather than complete chaos. 

 

I saw him glancing around, almost nervously, and felt the need to explain. “Sorry, work was a mess this week and I was hardly home, so it’s kind of a disaster zone.” 

 

“No worries,” he said, but he continued to look around as if he was trying to find something. He looked at me meaningfully. “Your mom didn’t mention if…” He stopped himself, looking a bit embarrassed and uncertain. “Your mom didn’t mention,” he started up again, “if you were seeing anyone.”

 

I laughed nervously. It never crossed my mind that he might be checking for a boyfriend or a husband. I was still as single as the day I he had left. It had been such a part of my identity for so long that none of my close friends even bothered to ask me if I was dating anymore. 

 

“Nope,” I said, leaning up against the kitchen counter as he set his duffel bag down by the couch. “Just me.”

 

He gave me a look that was full of meaning but somehow undecipherable. Was it pity? Was it relief? Was it hope?

 

“And you?” I asked, feeling emboldened. I had never intended to grill him on that subject unless he offered it up willingly, but he was the one who had ventured into the topic. 

 

“Nope,” Luke replied, echoing my answer. “Just me.” 

 

And then I did something stupid. I smiled. I smiled like an idiot, because, to be honest, I was incredibly happy that he did not have a girlfriend or was not married. He was, even after all this time, my best friend, and I selfishly wanted him all to myself. And there was also the tiny fact that I was hopelessly in love with him.

 

But I had told myself I would not enter into any romantic or vaguely flirtatious territory with him. I was still reeling from twelve years ago and it would only hurt more when he left again. 

 

And now Luke was smiling back at me, sitting on the arm of my couch, so lovely and so wonderful. I hated the way he looked so at ease, like he belonged there. I hated the way I could picture him fitting seamlessly into my life and before I could stop myself a multitude of simple, domestic scenes danced before my eyes.

 

Why did I have to go and smile?

 

“You must be exhausted,” I said quickly, averting disaster. “I don’t even know what time it is in Australia right now.”

 

He smiled again and I cursed him quietly in my mind for being so effortlessly handsome.

 

“To be honest, neither do I,” Luke said, running a hand through his hair and causing me physical pain. “But I’m really not that tired. I’m just really happy to be here.” I knew the former statement to be a lie because his eyes were tired and his voice was slow and sleepy. But he was beaming from ear to ear, so the latter seemed to be true, causing me to blush deeply. I hoped he was too jet-lagged to notice. 

 

Then, before I knew it, we had slipped back into our old ways. He told me all about his mom and his job and his love for music. I could have talked to him about music forever. I told him about my job at the marketing firm and my boss from hell and the insane condo fees on my apartment. 

 

I poured us wine and ordered us pizza. We sat on my couch together, a safe distance between us, as if twelve years of separation hadn't cemented that distance enough, with the television playing some unknown reality show quietly in the background. When the pizza arrived and I started us on our second bottle of wine, I could have sworn we were sixteen all over again. Maybe we were completely different people, but at any rate, I loved him just as much now as I did then.

 

We talked and talked and drank and ate, reclining ever so gradually until we were both slouched at either end of the couch, realizing it was past two in the morning.

 

“You should get some rest,” I said, my head spinning as I sat up. I had drunk more than I had realized. Luke was nearly asleep, his head resting against the arm of the couch and his eyes fluttering gently. I took the empty wine glass from his hand and set it on the coffee table. I managed to get a pillow under his head and draped a blanket over him that barely covered his tall frame. 

 

My heart ached for him and, in my drunken state, I thought about how nice it would be to cuddle up next to him and drift into sweet dreams. But instead I said, “You must have a lot plans for the weekend.”

 

He managed to open his exhausted and wine-drunk eyes and look up at me. “You were really my only plan,” he said, his voice quiet but clear. He smiled slowly and sleepily, closing his eyes again and rolling over, pulling the blanket up over him. 

 

I started crying before I could stop myself and was grateful he was asleep. I blamed the tears on the wine and the lack of sleep and shuffled off to my bedroom.

 

I collapsed on the bed, not bothering to wash my face or brush my teeth. My mind could only hold one thought and it was him.

 

I slept the uneasy sleep of someone who had drank a little too much, constantly half-awake but exhausted, tossing and turning, my body buzzing.

 

At one point, I dreamed that I got out of bed and went back to the front room. He was still facing the back of the couch and I lay down beside him, wrapping my arms around him, thinking of how silly it was for me to be the big spoon. He sighed contentedly as I rested my face against the side of his neck. I could feel his heart beating.

 

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice choked and teary, but happy.

 

I felt him take my hand in his and he drew it close to his chest, squeezing it lightly and edging forward to make more room for me on the couch.

 

“I love you too,” he said, and my dream faded to a peaceful sleep at last.


	5. Don't Blink First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke grapples with the after effects of a wine-fuelled evening.

Luke awoke to the dull aching of his head and a slow throb coming from behind his eyes. 

 

He was about to roll over on the couch when he realized a pair of arms were wrapped around him. And those arms happened to be connected to the girl he was crazy about. He should have been ecstatic but his mind was reeling.

 

_What the fuck had happened last night?_

 

He only momentarily panicked, wondering if they had slept together, before he realized they were both still fully clothed, and he definitely would have remembered something like _that_ happening.

 

He remembered the wine, and the wine that followed, and the wine after that wine.

 

That would explain the headache.

 

But why was Jess spooning him on the couch? He surmised that they had most likely fallen asleep together. He could vaguely remember her draping a blanket over him and her sweet voice telling him to get some rest, but nothing after that.

 

They used to fall asleep like this all the time during that final summer at her cottage. They would constantly wake up in a tangle of limbs and blankets, her long hair a mess and him in nothing but sweatpants. They never spoke about it. He was always too afraid to bring it up, fearing that if she became self-conscious about it, it would stop all together. And he liked it too much. He loved the scent of her damp, freshly shampooed hair. He loved the way her fair body looked against his own tanned skin.

 

This felt a lot like those days, except now he was absolutely terrified. Luke had flown around the world to win her back (if he had ever even had her in the first place) and he did not want to do anything to mess that up. He willed himself to stay as still as a statue and slowed his breathing until he was barely breathing at all.

 

Moments later, he felt her stir. He clenched his eyes shut, determined to do the honourable thing and make her think he was still asleep. This would give her the power to handle the situation in whatever way she wanted - she could continue to hold him and whisper good morning in his ear, or slip away and pretend the whole thing never happened.

 

His mind prayed for the latter. His heart thirsted for the former.

 

After a minute of nothing, he felt her release her arms from around him, sneaking away with impressive stealth. He could not help but be disappointed. 

 

He was going to have to try a lot harder than drunk cuddling on the couch to make her see how sorry he was and how much he needed and wanted her.

 

He waited at least five minutes after he heard her bedroom door shut before sitting up, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the window. He then helped himself to a shower which seemed to help a bit with the hangover and the jet lag. Getting dressed and making his way to the kitchen, he decided the best way to impress the love of your life would be to have a fresh pot of coffee ready whenever she decided to reveal herself.

 

As he hunted for the coffee machine and its respective supplies, he found his mind on the edge of some words that had passed between them last night as she held him on the couch. He could not remember what he had said, but he remembered the feeling that had gone along with it. It hit him all at once, the lightness and the swelling in his chest. His mind reached for the memory. It was just beyond him and he almost felt the words on his lips.

 

But then they were gone.


	6. The Feelings That Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hungover and confused, Jess remembers an evening twelve years ago that almost took her life and left her with a broken heart.

Jess let the freezing water cascade over her in the shower, trying to shake off the last vestiges of wine running through her veins. She had already taken two extra strength aspirins and her head was still throbbing mercilessly.

 

But the hangover was far from the worst part, she thought, shivering slightly and adjusting the water temperature, leaving it cool but tolerable.

 

The worst part was practically accosting her former best friend on the couch as he lay sleeping and defenceless. Luke had not invited her to cuddle up to him. She had made that genius decision all on her own.

 

Actually, the worst part was that she had told him she loved him. Or at least she thought she had. She was still praying that part had been a dream. But if the part where he had told her he loved her too was real, she might feel a bit differently.

 

She wished she could blame it on the wine - and maybe the wine was at least a little to blame - but she was the one who had dreamed about it so vividly that she had actually gone and fucking done it. And now she going to have to face the consequences.

 

It had been ages since she had been _that_ drunk. In fact, the last time she could remember being that drunk was, ironically, also with Luke. It had been twelve years ago during that last summer they had spent together at her cottage.

 

They had cracked open a bottle of Merlot (okay, maybe _more than one_ ) one evening as the sun went down, paddling around the empty lake in an old wooden canoe. By time they had circled back to the dock an hour later, they were so drunk that they barely made it out of the boat without tipping over. 

 

There was a lot of giggling and casual touching, the kind of touching that lies somewhere between friendship and romance. It was the first time she had ever been that drunk. They had been fairly responsible all summer (or rather _she_ had been responsible, usually the rational angel to the little devil on his shoulder), but something about the warm summer night had lured them on.

 

She could never quite remember who had made the suggestion (she had always assumed it had been him), but they had ended up jumping off the end of the dock in nothing but their underwear. 

 

When they were younger, they used to love playing lifeguard in the lake, taking turns pretending to drown and rescue each other. So, in her drunken state, she had decided to slip beneath the cool surface of the lake, the water so black she could not see a thing. Somehow, a wayward rope from the edge of the dock got wrapped around her leg, and, in a state of drunken panic, she could not get herself loose. She thrashed and spun until she no longer knew which way was up.

 

But then an arm wrapped around her waist. A hand removed the rope in one swift movement, and she was being pulled through the water. Seconds later, they broke the surface and she gasped madly for air. She knew it was Luke, but somehow, she thought it might be an angel. Or maybe the two were one in the same. 

 

He dragged her to the shore, still with his arm wrapped securely around her. They toppled drunkenly onto the shore before getting onto their feet, trying aimlessly to brush the sand from their bodies. 

 

“Are you okay?” he asked, facing her and holding her by the sides of her arms, his voice shaky but clear, as if the seriousness of the moment had rendered him sober. All Jess could do was giggle. She had almost drowned but all she could think about was the firm grasp of his hands and the lightness of her head.

 

Luke scowled at her and release his grip, running a hand through his wet hair, pushing it up off his forehead.

 

“This isn’t a fucking joke!” he yelled, startling her. His voice echoed out across the lake. He instantly looked ashamed for raising his voice. So, in a near whisper, he added, “You could have died,” before walking back to the cottage, leaving her standing in the moonlight, shivering violently.

 

She waited for what seemed like hours, wanting to give him time to cool off before she followed. By time she went inside, she was almost dried off, her skin covered in goosebumps.

 

He was sitting on the couch, watching some movie, and when he caught sight of her, his face wore a startled expression. It was only then that she realized she was still in her bra and underwear, her clothes still down on the dock.

 

“Jesus,” he said, “where are your clothes? You must be freezing!” He shifted slightly on the couch and grabbed at the blanket behind him. “Get over here,” he commanded, slightly exasperated. 

 

She did as he said. She was not sober enough to feel self-conscious over her half-dressed state. She sat down beside Luke, curling up her legs underneath her and wrapping her arms across her body, shivering again. He wrapped the blanket around her carefully and then put an arm around her, pulling her against him. She sighed quietly and rested her head on his shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, exhaustion taking over. 

 

“I’m not mad,” he said, giving her a small squeeze for reassurance, “I just…You could have died, you know?” She could feel his eyes on her so she looked up to meet his gaze, their faces now inches from each other.

 

Luke was looking at her curiously. His head inched forward ever so slightly and she could have sworn for a moment that he was going to kiss her. A warm wave spread over her and she could not help but smile.

 

But then all he did was laugh quietly. “Oh man,” he said, turning back to the television, “you are _so_ wasted.” 

 

She laughed to cover up the absolute devastation that was sweeping over her. She had not realized how badly she wanted him to kiss her. How badly she wanted to kiss him. How badly she wanted him. 

 

A few tears began rolling down her cheek. She wiped them away quickly before he could see and tried to regain her composure. 

 

Those feelings she had experienced then so closely resembled what she was feeling now, the cool shower water still streaming over her. 

 

It was the feeling of being so hopelessly in love and so hopelessly unwanted. 


	7. What's So Hard To Believe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke struggles to find a way to make things right.

It is a unsettling feeling, seeing the person you have loved for so long after so many years apart. Nothing has changed in your heart since the day you were sixteen, but it is the only thing that has gone untouched by time.

 

It has been less than twelve hours since I arrived and I have had to remind myself countless times that we are not sixteen anymore. I want to be sixteen again. When I was sixteen, I had _her_ (as much as a sixteen year old can have anyone) - _we had each other_. I missed the feeling of being the most important person in the world to her. I missed the feeling of her needing me. I missed the dreams of her wanting me, though those dreams had never disappeared completely.

 

We were not sixteen anymore. Jess had grown into a beautiful woman, beautiful beyond what my sixteen year old self could have ever imagined. And she was so wonderful, in fact, that her good looks were not even close to being the best thing about her. She was unapologetically independent. She was wickedly funny. She was unquestionably brilliant. She was sweet and kind as she had always been.

 

And yes, she was beautiful. And sexy as hell.

 

I had thought that, at sixteen, I had wanted her more than I would ever want another person. How was I to know that it was possible to want her even more? That very thought would have fried my little sixteen year old brain. Hell, it had my twenty-eight year old brain on the ropes.

 

I had no idea why I thought I could show up here, swooping into her life like some self-proclaimed hero, and pretend that the last twelve years had not happened.

 

_ Because you're a fucking idiot, Luke Hemmings, _  I mused.

 

And so, when she finally finishes her shower and walks into the kitchen, dressed in an Arctic Monkeys t-shirt and sweatpants, hair still wet against her neck, I have to stare into my coffee for a moment. I avoid her eyes: half out of shame and embarrassment for ever thinking she would take me back into her life so easily, half out of an unbridled lust consuming me that I am trying so desperately to hide.

 

“Hey,” Jess mutters, her voice still slick with sleep and the after effects of too much wine.

 

I am finally forced to look at her and I am saddened to see how uncomfortable she looks, almost like she is frightened of me. This is the last thing I wanted to do, to make her feel strange in her own home.

 

“Hey,” I mirror, gripping my mug with both hands and gesturing at her with it. “Made some coffee,” I explain, too late seeing the idiocy of the statement. _She’s not blind, of course I’ve made coffee._

 

But she smiles at me and I am like that stupid cartoon in the RedBull commercial. I am convinced I have wings.

 

“Awesome,” she says, already over at the coffee maker, pouring herself a big cup. She returns, standing across from me and leaning up against the counter. 

 

Silence passes between us. It is filled with unsaid things about what passed between us last night. I am sure as hell not going to be the one to bring it up. She was the one spooning me.

 

But apparently she cannot read my mind and remains quiet, sipping her coffee and staring over my shoulder like I am not there.

 

I find it ironic how upset it makes me, the way she is ignoring me in these few moments, when I was the one to leave her for twelve years.

 

Last night, in my drunken sleep, I had dreamt about that lazy summer afternoon at her cottage when I sat on my bedroom floor and played her songs on my guitar. She was wearing those jean shorts that drove me crazy and one of my old flannels. She was curled up like a cat and was completely quiet. I kept thinking she must have fallen asleep, but every time I glanced up, she was watching me. Having her watch me was the best feeling in the entire world.

 

It still is.

 

I remember trying to rectify the feelings inside me, the way my childhood self still loved her as a friend but the way my teenager self wanted her in ways so new and intoxicating to me. 

 

I lost count of the number of times I wanted to kiss her that summer. I must have broken some kind of record.

 

And if someone had broken my record in the years that have since passed, my brain seemed determined to reclaim it.

 

I try not to stare at her as we drink our coffee in silence, but I was never any good at trying. Her semi-wet, dark brown hair is drying into gentle waves. Her green eyes catch the morning light and turn into some otherworldly colour. 

 

With every moment that passes by, I am reminded more and more of the real reason I am here: that I am in love with this girl, and that I am going to tell her how I feel.

 

And then, in a brilliant flash, it comes to me - the perfect way to make up for everything I have done to her, the perfect way to make her see how much I love her. But it all hinges upon one important question.

 

“Hey,” I begin, attempting a confident but casual tone, “do you still have your cottage?”

 

Of course, the question is out of nowhere. She looks almost shocked at first and then almost sad. It takes her a moment to answer.

 

“Yeah,” she says, nodding, holding her coffee mug like a crutch. 

 

I respond without an ounce of hesitation.

 

“You think we could go there?”

 

And with those words, I can tell that she knows: how I feel, what I want.

 

I have never waited for a response so eagerly as I do to that question. Her answer is everything. “No” means she is not ready to forgive me, that she does not love me, that she will never give me a second chance. “Yes” does not necessarily mean that she loves me too, but it means that she is willing to open her heart to me again. 

 

She looks at me intently and I can see all the worries and the sadness and the anger of the last twelve years dance across her face. This is not a decision to be taken lightly. This is a decision riddled with meaning.

 

And finally, a response: “Okay.”

 

So, it is neither a “yes” nor a “no”, but instead an “okay”, which is really just a “yes” infiltrated by either hesitation or indifference. But it is better than a “no”.

 

I try to think of something witty to say. Maybe something flirtatious. But of course, she is faster on her feet than me.

 

“I’m gonna go pack,” Jess states simply, as if jetting off to her cottage with a guy she has not seen in twelve years is normal behaviour. She abandons her coffee and disappears into her room.

 

When she is finally out of sight, I breathe the biggest sigh of relief I have ever breathed. Had I been holding my breath that whole time? I am dizzy with excitement.

 

It was clear. She has not forgiven me. She does not trust me. 

 

But there is still something there between us, and she is willing to see where it goes.


	8. The Things We Don't Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Jess make a trip to familiar ground, but can they go back to the way things were before?

The warm summer night was buzzing with promise, the kind of promise you can feel electrifying the air and blushing your skin. 

 

After a two hour drive north of the city, they had spent the afternoon swimming and barbecuing, catching up and reminiscing, all the while remaining cordial, almost distant. After the sun had gone down, Luke had suggested they take the old canoe out, something they had done countless time as kids.

 

As they set out in the canoe, the moonlight reflecting gently off the surface of the lake, Jess wondered if he remembered the last time they were together like this. And if he remembered, she wondered if it set the same desire flooding through his veins as it did to her. 

 

Twelve years is a long time, long enough to move half a world away, to grow up, to start a new life - but is it enough time to move on? The answer to her was clear. If she lived forever, it would not be long enough to kill the fire that lingered in her heart.

 

She stopped paddling for a minute. She needed to take it in: the way his back moved as he cut his oar expertly through the water, the way the light of the moon gave his golden hair an ethereal glow. She needed to memorize every detail, every subtlety, because tomorrow he would be gone, some plane taking him further and further away, and she would probably never see him again.

 

He looked back over his shoulder suddenly, catching her off guard. She wished she could appear stoic, brave even, but it was too late to wipe the stupid puppy dog look off her face. Luke just stared for a moment. Half of her wished he would look away and the other half wanted him to look at her forever.

 

“Remember the last time we were out here?” Never one to break a silence first, she surprised herself with her own boldness as she spoke. He smiled that little, beautiful smile, his handsome face somehow becoming even more beautiful.

 

“How could I forget?” And though he finished his thought there, his eyes said something more. It made her feel incredibly vulnerable, the way he was looking at her. Why did things have to be so complicated? What was stopping her from lunging into his arms, kissing him madly with twelve years worth of passion?

 

She simply could not bear starting something they could not finish. She was certain it would kill her. She would have to be sure, dead sure, that they could make a real go of it before anything could happen. But she was simply too afraid to ask.

 

“I think we were just a little bit drunker the last time we were here,” she teased, trying to relieve some of the tension hurdling through the air. He had turned around on the bench to face her, his paddle resting across his lap. 

 

“Well,” he said, grinning coyly, “the night’s still young.”

 

She shook her head playfully. “Oh no, no, no, Mr. Hemmings. I haven’t been that drunk since and I don’t plan on being that drunk again. I don’t recover from hangovers the way I used to.”

 

“I don’t know,” he rebuked, “you were pretty drunk last night. Drunk enough to spoon me on the couch.”

 

She froze. _Shit_ , she thought. Why did he have to bring that up? How was she supposed to respond? How did he _want_ her to respond? She pleaded with her mind to slow down a bit, but it was already running away from her.

 

“Can we -” she started, unsure of how to proceed. “Can we just…not talk about that?”

 

He stayed quiet for beat or two before he spoke. “Whatever you want,” he said, picking up his paddle and starting to row them back to the dock. She spun around on her bench so she did not have to face him. He had looked almost… _disappointed_. 

 

That had been her chance to suss things out, to see how far his feelings for her went, to see if - after all this time - he finally wanted something more from her.

 

But she had blown any chance of that. 

 

When they finally reached the dock, she was so eager to get out of the boat that she stood up a little too quickly. The canoe rocked wildly.

 

“Whoa, whoa!” Luke shouted, trying to steady them, but it was too late. The canoe flipped over, sending them into the dark water. It was colder than she expected. Fair punishment, she thought, breaking the water’s surface, for how badly she had screwed things up. 

 

And then she felt a pair of hands on her waist.

 

“You okay?” he asked, as she wheeled around to face him. He released his grip quickly as she nodded. He swam away and clambered onto the dock. When Jess reached the edge, he reached out his arms. She took them thankfully and he pulled her out of the water. 

 

Together, they righted the canoe and tied it to the dock in silence. After they were done, they both just stood there, unsure of what to say or do next.

 

“I’m sorry,” Luke said, facing the water. She glanced at him and he turned to meet her gaze. 

 

“For what?” she asked in confusion.

 

“For everything,” he said, stepping forward and closing the distance between them. “Sorry for leaving. Sorry for not coming back. Sorry for thinking I could just show up here and expect you to be happy to see me.” 

 

They were the words she thought she had needed to hear. But now she realized she did not need an apology - the things that had happened had been beyond his control. She only needed _him_.

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she replied quietly, crossing her arms against her chest and shivering slightly. It was a lot cooler out than she had realized.

 

“Let’s go inside,” he said, his eyes smiling, “it’s fucking freezing.”

 

And as they walked back to the cottage, he wrapped his arm around her, just like he used to always do.

 

“You know,” she said, “I’m sorry too.”

 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Luke said, not missing a beat.

 

She smiled at the ground as they walked. For the first time in twelve years, she was truly happy.


	9. Everything I Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new flame begins to emerge from the ashes of an old friendship.

“I’m gonna take a shower if that’s okay,” Luke said once they had made it inside, running a hand through his wet hair.

 

Jess nodded wordlessly and they walked to the back hallway that led to the bathroom and the bedrooms. She grabbed him a towel from the linen closet.

 

“The faucet got messed up a few years ago,” she explained, heading into the bathroom ahead of him. She pulled back the shower curtain. “You need to turn it all the way to the left to get any hot water. And,” she said, demonstrating, “you need to wedge the drain cover behind this lever or you won’t get any water pressure.”

 

“Right,” he said, almost nervously, and when she turned around she realized he was standing very close, practically leaning over her. The closeness was too much to bear. She edged around him, setting the towel on the back of the toilet, and headed toward the door.

 

But something would not let her go any further. She paused and turned around, just as he was pulling his damp shirt up and over his head. His sweatpants were hanging low around his waist, his hipbones a work of art under his tan skin.

 

Luke stood there, staring at her, his shirt in his hand.

 

It was clear to her now, from the look in his eyes, that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. No, he had not made some grand profession of love, but sometimes feelings are best seen and not spoken.

 

For twelve years, or longer, she had been a coward in the world of love, never going after what she really wanted, never trying for anything that involved any kind of risk.

 

But now…now, she was going to be brave.

 

Jess closed the gap between them in four strides, grabbing his face in her hands and pulling him in close, kissing him for the first time. For a moment, he seemed to be in shock, his hands aimlessly up in the air. But soon enough, his arms were wrapped tightly around her, bringing her so close she could feel every inch of him pressed against her.

 

The kiss began slowly and gently, their mouths barely moving, but it did not take long for his tongue to find hers, for the kiss to deepen with passion.

 

She had never imagined a kiss could feel that way, but then again, it was the first time she had ever kissed someone she truly loved. 

 

Their breathing became ragged, neither daring to come up for air, both afraid it was a dream they would soon wake up from. He finally paused to cover her neck with kisses which caused her to sigh with pleasure. He stopped for moment, leaning back so he could look her in the eyes.

 

“I’m so in love with you,” Luke said, simply and quietly, running a hand through her hair. “I should have told you that a long time ago.” He rested his forehead against hers, his hand against the small of her back making little circles.

 

“I love you too,” she whispered, bringing him into a hug, a few happy tears escaping from her eyes. “I love you so fucking much,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. 

 

He kissed her neck again and she felt a warmth grow across her entire body. She had always wondered what this would be like, the physicality of him, the closeness of him, and it was more than she could have ever imagined. Every piece of her needed every piece of him.

 

As he continued to feather her with kisses, she reached behind him and turned on the shower, letting the water fill the air with warmth. Luke looked at her expectantly, appearing like some kind of angel with his damp blonde hair and the freckles on his broad shoulders. 

 

She smiled and he smiled back at her. They did not need any words between them.

 

Kissing him softly, she reached forward and tugged down on his sweatpants. He obliged, stepping out of them without breaking their kiss. In turn, he pulled up her shirt and she raised her arms most willingly. He drew her in close again and she relished the new feeling of their bare skin making contact. It was electrifying.

 

She fumbled for the button on her shorts, letting them fall to the floor. He unhooked her bra and removed it, his hands warm on her skin. 

 

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly, his breathing heavy, his eyes taking in her body greedily.

 

Jess could not help but smile. 

 

“I think twelve years of waiting is long enough, don’t you?” she asked, biting his lower lip playfully before kissing him again.

 

He did not answer her, but he did not need to. His body said enough.

 

As they rid themselves of their last pieces of clothing and stepped into the shower, they took their time, kissing for what seemed like hours under the warm cascade of water. She took in every last detail: the way he moaned quietly as she felt him, the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat when he pressed her against the wall, the way his fingers felt along her thighs. 

 

And when they were finally done, they made love again, keeping their bodies together until the water finally ran cold.

 

It was supposed to be their new beginning, the start of the next chapter of their lives together, the one she had been waiting twelve years for…

 

But as they held each other, kissing slowly and deeply after those final throes, why did it feel like they were saying goodbye?


	10. It's Easier This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke learns a hard lesson about loving and letting go.

Luke awoke from a strange dream.

 

In his dream, he had been standing by the ocean. The sky had been black as night and he could barely see a foot in front of him, but he could hear the cry of sea birds and he could feel the tide lapping up around his ankles. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear her voice. Just above a faint whisper, but it was audible all the same. 

 

No matter how he tried, he could not move, he could not get to her.

 

When he opened his eyes, a chill had taken over his body. The cottage had become quite cool over night and he grasped for the blanket to cover his skin and stave off the goosebumps that trailed down his arms. He reached across the bed but found it empty.

 

He lay there in those lost moments between sleep and waking, remembering the feeling of her skin on his own. Their first time together had been even more perfect than he could have imagined. She was so beautiful, it hurt him to look at her, but that would not stop him from looking at her every day for the rest of his life.

 

He lay there for a few minutes longer until, finally fully awake, he felt the gripping need to hold her, to feel her arms wrapped around his waist, to kiss every inch of her. He slipped into his sweatpants and headed into the kitchen. The cool air hit him, that late August morning feeling more like October, and he saw the room was empty. 

 

He called for Jess once, but somehow he did not expect an answer. A strange fear was growing inside of him, a fear he had felt in his dream. Something had gone horribly wrong, but he did not know what that something was. A quick glance into the other bedrooms and the bathroom confirmed the cottage was empty. Looking out the window, he saw her car was still there. Confused, he went outside, walking down to the water and then through the woods looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found.

 

Unsure of what to do next, he went back inside, a chill running down his spine. It was only when he went back into the bedroom to check his cellphone that he caught sight of the note sitting on the bedside table. He froze, his heart pounding a million miles a minute.

 

From a distance, he could only make out one line.

 

_I’m sorry_ , it read.

 

No good had ever come from a letter like that.

 

Finally regaining some sensation in his body, he sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the letter in his trembling hands.

 

_Luke -_ it began, her writing hurried.

 

_I know I told you there was nothing to be sorry for, and I meant that. I know I told you I love you, and I meant that too._

 

_But I can’t do this. Twelve years is a long time. Too long. I’m too broken now and I could never give you what you need._

 

_I can’t bear to see you get on that plane again. It would kill me._

 

_Take my car to the airport. I can get it from short-term parking later._

 

_I’ll always love you._

 

_I’m sorry._

 

_J._

 

The tears were flowing down his cheeks before he could stop them. Luke hung his head low in shame, the letter dropping to the floor. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was to hurt her. But he had hurt her twelve years ago and now he had hurt her all over again.

 

He should have known it had happened too fast and too soon. There had been too much unsaid, too much between them that needed to be mended. He had pushed her too far when he should have given her more time and more understanding. 

 

He reached for his phone frantically, beginning to dial her number, when he stopped himself. _No_ , he thought. Calling her would be selfish, just like this entire trip had been selfish. After all of these years, he should have just let her move on. It was time he did one unselfish thing. He would get on that plane and never see her again. Maybe then she could finally be happy.

 

Within five minutes, Luke had his things packed and grabbed for her car keys. He left the note on the floor where it had fallen. He just needed to get the hell out of there.

 

As he sped off down the gravel road, he thought he caught a glimpse of her in the tree-line. He did not stop to take a second look.

 

There was no looking back.


	11. Until You Are Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess confronts the demons of her past and reconsiders her future.

I do not understand.

 

Ten minutes ago I was laying in bed with the boy I love, and now I am running like hell through the cold and empty woods, tears streaming wildly down my face, stinging my skin in the wind.

 

I just had to get out of there.

 

Waking up, seeing his angelic face, feeling his heart beating against my own, the whole world seemed to fall out from underneath me. It was only when I realized just how much I loved him, which was more than I ever could have fathomed, that I realized how much it would kill me to lose him again.

 

In a few short hours, he would be flying half way around the world, leaving me behind. I could already see it all playing out before my eyes. We would promise each other things would be different this time, that somehow we would be together in the end, but we had made that promise once before.

 

I had been living for that dream for twelve years. It was exhausting. It was time to let go.

 

And so I had snuck quietly out of the room, catching one last glimpse of him as I did, feeling my heart break again and again as if caught up in some twisted deja vu. 

 

I scribbled a note quickly, tears welling up, my hand shaking. He deserved so much better, but people very rarely get what they deserve.

 

Not knowing where to go, I just pulled on my shoes and ran, and I am still running.

 

My lungs are burning, the cool air leaving my face numb. I am running much too fast and before long my legs begin to give out. I stumble, falling to my knees, sobbing. I am gasping for air, my hands clawing at the leaves on the ground, trying to hold onto anything that will steady me.

 

When I close my eyes, I see nothing but Luke's face, nothing but his smile. 

 

_I’m so in love with you,_ I hear him say. I can almost feel his hands on my skin. _I should have told you that a long time ago._

 

I am crying freely and hopelessly now, twelve years worth of tears. I am crying for the day he left me behind. I am crying for the day he never came back. I am crying for all the years I wondered what I had done wrong. 

 

I am crying for the unforgivable mistake I have just made.

 

I realize, as I sit alone in the silence of the forest, just how brave he was, taking a chance and coming to me out of the blue, confessing his love, asking for forgiveness. It was a hell of a lot more than I ever did. 

 

In a moment of panic, I had decided that leaving him was the braver decision, the smarter decision. I had left because I wanted to leave him before he could leave me. 

 

Fear drives us to do cowardly things.

 

I push myself up off the ground, looking around rapidly to see exactly which way I had run in my blind terror. 

 

I begin running again, using up every ounce of my strength, praying I am not too late.

 

Maybe he is still sleeping. Maybe I can sneak back in and grab the note, burn it. Maybe I can slide back into bed, rest my head on his chest, and pretend this was all a terrible dream.

 

But I am nearing the cottage road when I hear a car fast approaching. I know already that I am too late, but I run harder all the same. I am still several yards back from the road as he passes. I take a moment to catch my breath before I sprint back to the cottage. I grab my phone and call him and text him but the minutes pass and I receive no reply.

 

I listen to his voicemail recording again and again until I slump down the wall, sobbing into my hands.

 

Part of me wants nothing more than to give up, than to be a coward.

 

But, if there is anything I have learned, there is no room for cowardice in love. Love is made up of moments of stupid, wonderful bravery.

 

So I ask myself, for the first time in my life, _can I be brave?_


	12. Just Like Yesterday

_He rolls the suitcase solemnly behind him._

 

_Sixteen years old and he feels like his world is ending._

 

_Sure enough, it’s raining outside. He couldn’t be more miserable and feels the smallest of consolations that the weather cares enough to mirror his mood._

 

_His mom is checking them into their flight and soon they will be heading to their terminal. He casts a weary eye toward customs and it fills him with dread. Once he passes through that gate, it will become all too real._

 

_Of course, he is thinking about her. He has not thought of anything else in the last two months. His mind has been a dizzy mess. He can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep._

 

_Then, as if he has summoned her from his dreams, he hears her voice._

 

_“Hemmings!” she shouts from somewhere in the distance. He wonders for a moment if he might be in a daydream, but when he turns around, he sees her. She is a sight for sore eyes._

 

_“What are you doing here?” he asks in confusion as she makes her way toward him._

 

_Jess pulls him into a hug before answering. Her hair smells intoxicating and her body is warm in spite of the cold rainy day. He smiles for the first time in days._

 

_“I know we said goodbye,” she says, her voice slightly muffled against his shoulder, “but I had to see you one last time.”_

 

_When they pull apart, he can see her face is full of anguish. This is killing her every bit of the way it is killing him._

 

_He reaches out and holds both of her hands in his, intertwining fingers. Maybe if he holds on tight enough, they can make it out of this nightmare unscathed._

 

_“You’re my best friend, Hemmings,” she says mournfully, looking up at him with doleful eyes. He should have looked into those eyes more often, while he’d still had the chance._

 

_But they are suddenly interrupted. His mom has made her way back over, gives her greetings, but tells him they have to get going or they’ll miss their flight. She tells them to say their goodbyes and heads over to customs._

 

_Luke swallows hard. He has not let go of her hands yet. He doesn’t want to ever let go._

 

_“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Jess says, giving his hands a squeeze, her eyes becoming teary. He pulls her back into a hug, his heart racing a millions miles a minute._

 

_“Then don’t,” he whispers. He hugs her tighter still. “I promise I’ll come back for you.” He runs a hand through her hair, feeling it one last time._

 

_There is a moment of silence before she moves her lips to his ears and whispers, “I’m never gonna love anyone but you, Luke Hemmings.”_

 

_She kisses him softly on the cheek and smiles sadly._

 

_He can’t speak. He can’t move. He feels as though the wind has been knocked out of his chest. All he can do is smile that crazy smile of a person in love._

 

_She turns and walks away, not looking back._

 

_When she is finally lost in the crowd, he whispers under his breath._

 

_“I love you too.”_


	13. Do You Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

The waves came in pairs, rolling, rolling, before receding back into the ocean.

 

The sky was a hazy grey and the air was unusually cool. Luke's eyes strained against what little light came from the sun. It was the first time he had left his bed in two days.

 

He knew, somewhere deep inside, that he had done the right thing, leaving and not looking back. Jess had made things clear and it was only right that, after all he had done, he finally let her move on with her life.

 

He pulled the hood of his sweater up over his head and crossed his arms across his chest, his mind letting him think of nothing but her. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

It was bizarre, the way he had settled into his misery. It was almost comforting in some sad, strange way. He was resigned to the fact that he would never know happiness again, and he felt some relief in finally succumbing to the hopelessness.

 

He watched the white caps out in the distance and soon fell into a trance, feeling her fingers on his skin and the touch of her lips on his cheek. 

 

A very specific memory flooded his mind.

 

They were sixteen, watching the sun go down as they sat on the porch of her cottage. She was braiding her hair and he was rocking the swinging seat back and forth slowly. 

 

_I saw Katie Allen in town today_ , Jess had said suddenly, breaking the silence punctuated only by the birds up in the trees. _She was asking about you_ , she added, looking toward him but not meeting his gaze.

 

_Oh_ , he said. 

 

_She was gonna be at Becker’s tomorrow night_ , she said. She took a moment before continuing, as if considering the weight of her words. _It sounded like she was really hoping you’d be there._

 

He rocked the swing a few more times before coming to a stop. 

 

It was exactly one week before he would find out his parents were divorcing, before a chain of events would be set in motion that would change their lives forever. If only they had known then what was to come.

 

_So do you think we should go?_  he asked with an intentional air of vagueness. She looked at him, her hands freezing, half way through her braid. She scowled at him.

 

_C’mon, Luke_ , she said, as if he was the world’s biggest idiot. _She wasn’t telling me her Saturday night plans in hopes that I’d show up with the guy she has a major crush on_. She went back to braiding her hair quietly, staring out at the lake. 

 

It was a strange feeling, the tension flowing between them. He couldn’t tell if she was jealous, angry, indifferent, or a deadly combination of them all. 

 

_I won’t go if you don’t want me to go_ , Luke said. The last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. But it was not just out of gallantry that he offered to decline the invitation. He wanted - _needed_ \- to know if there was any chance her feelings for him teetered beyond friendship.

 

He remembers the look she gave him like it was yesterday, a look that was half softness, half terror.

 

_Why wouldn’t I want you to go?_ Her eye contact was suddenly unflinching. Was she challenging him? Was she hoping for some confession of love? His heart sank at an alternative line of thought. Maybe she really didn’t give a damn about him, at least not in _that_ way.

 

Just like that, with one simple question, she had rendered him a complete mess. All he could do was shrug noncommittally and stare back out at the lake. Jess finished her braid in silence as he rocked the swing once more.

 

As the sun slipped below the horizon and the darkness descended around them, she pulled her legs up against her chest and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her instinctively, tracing his fingers absentmindedly up and down her arm.

 

_What if I don’t want you to go?_ Her voice was small, vulnerable. It caught him off guard. It was strange how one little question could turn his world upside down. For an entire summer, Luke had wondered if they could ever be something more than friends. Now that he might finally find out, it frightened him more than anything.

 

_Then I won’t go_ , he said, simply, quietly, and she nuzzled against his neck in response. Every inch of skin was suddenly set on fire, burning with an anticipation he’d never known before.

 

_And what if I don’t want you to date Katie Allen?_ She looked at him and he felt so dizzy with happiness that he might just disappear into the ether. He let his hand fall to her waist, drawing her close to him until their faces were almost touching.

 

_Then I won’t_ , he replied, and he couldn’t help but smile the idiot grin of someone experiencing love for the first time. When he saw her smile back at him, he knew he had never been happier.

 

Her hand reached out to him, her fingers running gently along the side of his face, through his hair. Jess swung her legs across his lap and draped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

 

_And what if I don’t want you to date any other girls?_ She whispered into his ear, her voice like some sweet music only he could hear.

 

_I won’t_ , he said, pulling his head back to he could see her face more clearly. 

 

_Good_ , she said, laughing nervously, resting her forehead on his. 

 

And he knew in that moment that something was about to happen between them, something he had been dreaming about the entire summer.

 

He kept his gaze fixed on her eyes, leaning in slowly, almost imperceptibly. His lips, an inch from hers, danced feverishly with an anticipation that consumed him. 

 

But then there was the loud honk of a car horn, making them both jump out of their skin. Her parents had finally arrived for the long weekend. She had immediately detangled her limbs from his and was already running off toward the driveway before he could digest what had just happened.

 

His entire body burned and his fingers trembled against his will. 

 

Now, twelve years later, half-a-world away and lost beyond all hope, he wished more than anything he had kissed her that day. His heart clung to just how much it might have changed things.

 

His eyes would not focus as he looked out across the water. He hadn’t deserved her twelve years ago and he sure as hell didn’t deserve her now.

 

Love was wasted on him.

 

Just as he was about to walk home, having indulged sufficiently in his quota of self-pity for the day, he heard a voice emanate from back toward the boardwalk. It was half-drowned out by the wind, but he heard it all the same.

 

“Luke!” This time it was clear as day, and it sent his heart into a frenzy from which he was uncertain he’d ever recover. It was the only voice that mattered.

 

He turned around, praying to whatever god would listen that if this was real, if this was actually happening, he would spend the rest of his life making amends for all the wrongs he had done.

 

His breath caught in his throat when he saw her, about twenty feet away, a hiker’s backpack hung over both shoulders. Her long brown hair was a mess, the wind taking it in every direction, her hands struggling madly to keep her field of vision clear.

 

He would have liked to say that he had dreamt about a moment like this, but his heart hadn’t dared to let him even imagine such happiness. 

 

Luke was frozen to the spot, watching her walk toward him like some mirage. She stopped a few feet short of him, hands gripping the straps of her backpack, her face a sorry mixture of pain and tenderness.

 

He pulled the hood of his sweater back from his head, shoving his hands into his pockets, his entire body tense with uncertainty.

 

“I’ve been looking for you all morning,” Jess said, slightly out of breath. “Thank God your mom kept that same phone number all of these years.” The smallest of smiles played across her face. “She said you might be here.”

 

He said nothing, torn between longing and sheer terror.

 

“You know,” she began, crossing her arms across her chest, looking as lovely as ever in spite of the long flight she had just endured, “I had this entire speech planned. I wanted to try to explain everything, you know? Like how I felt about you all of those years ago. How I felt when you left. What it did to me when you came back after all that time.” She glanced down at her feet. “But there’s only one story I wanted to tell you,” she continued, now staring out at the water. “I was dating someone a few years back,” she explained, her voice tight and her eyes squinting slightly as if remembering something she’d rather forget. “He was a great guy. A really great guy. The only guy I ever dated, in fact.”

 

Now she looked at him, her green eyes so beautiful and vulnerable that he fell in love with her again for what seemed like the millionth time.

 

“I’d spent so many years trying to convince myself that I could love someone again,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly, her eyes watering. “I wanted to believe it so badly that I let myself lead him on.”

 

She was crying freely now. Luke wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, but he knew this was something she wanted to tell him. _Needed_ to tell him.

 

“He asked me to marry him, you know,” she added, looking at her feet again, wiping at her tears with the back of a hand. “It was seven years to the day after you left.” She laughed hollowly. “Of course he had no way of knowing that.” She paused for a moment. “I never even told him about you.” 

 

A particularly large wave crashed onto the shore, breaking and showering them with a fine mist, but neither of them moved. She didn’t need to finish the story. They both knew how it ended.

 

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The day we said goodbye at the airport?” Jess shifted on her feet, pulling the bag off her back and letting it fall to the sand. She braced herself against the cool morning air, wrapping her arms around her chest again.

 

He took a step forward.

 

“Of course I do,” his voice so quiet he wondered for a moment if she would hear it above the wind. “You said,” he began, swallowing hard, tears welling up in his eyes, “that you were never going to love anyone but me.” He reached out and grabbed both of her hands, squeezing them gently, feeling the kind of peace he only knew when he was with her. 

 

“I meant it,” she said, smiling through her happy tears, “and I still mean it.” She squeezed his hands back. “So I guess there’s only one question that matters then.” Her face was solemn and defenceless. “Do you still love me?”

 

Luke pulled her into an embrace, unable to hold back the tears any longer, and kissed her softly. “I’m sorry I ever made you doubt it,” he whispered. “Of course I do,” he affirmed, holding eye contact, feeling his heart spill out onto the sand below them.

 

She laughed in that relieved, unfiltered way that only the happiest of people can laugh, holding his face in her hands.

 

“I’m never gonna love anyone but you,” he promised quietly, kissing her again and again, dreaming of how he would get to spend forever this way. 

 

So they got their happy ending, that early morning on the beach, with the wind careening around their bodies and the ocean misting their skin. 

 

But, like the best of endings, it felt more like a beginning.

 

*

 

The End.


End file.
